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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559415">The Not-Thor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evian_99/pseuds/Evian_99'>Evian_99</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hogwarts Founders Era, Loki (Marvel) is Salazar Slytherin, Witch Trials</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:21:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evian_99/pseuds/Evian_99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts Founders-era. Loki flees to Midgard in the time of the witch-trials and meets one Godric Gryffindor. The Not-Thor is more intriguing than his brother can ever hope to be, not in the very least because of his fascinating magic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki (Marvel) &amp; Godric Gryffindor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Not-Thor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If anyone had bothered to ask him how he imagined his day going, being bound to a wooden beam waiting to become a magical lucifer wouldn’t have been in the list of answers. Nonetheless, his hands are well and truly tied. Ropes are zigzagging up and in between his arms, squirming bothersome ways through complicated knots. However, it are the heavy chains that truly finish up the look.</p><p>Very risqué.</p><p>And likely, if he hadn’t been so annoyed at getting dressed up like a tree, Loki probably would’ve been amused by the pathetic attempt to bind him. Honestly, the barbed stakes are just a little overkill.</p><p>‘Really?’ the god impassively asks the pastor. To his never-ending amusement, the poor man is quacking, clutching a bronze cross in his hands. ‘Spare me your meaningless prayers, I’m far from Christian.’</p><p>The little fat man narrows his eyes at that, spitting. ‘Heretic!’ he shouts, ‘Witch!’ Then he does one step back, spreading his arms and hyping up the crowd so that they are chanting it with him.</p><p>‘The correct term is mage’, Loki corrects. Rolling his eyes, he finds it about time to leave the circus behind. With little effort he wills the ropes to turn into poisonous green snakes, relishing in the screams of fear. The majestic creatures slitter down his body onto the plateau, hissing dangerously at the crowd.</p><p>He steps forward with an air or confidence. ‘It saddens me to cut this party short, but I truly must go.’ With that, he snaps his fingers. The entire podium bursts into green flames. Performing a mocking bow, he says: ‘Baron.’ A taunting smirk curls his lips as he looks at the red-faced pig on his pathetic throne.</p><p>‘I do hope we can continue our business in the future.’ It is said almost sweetly. Stepping down the steps and completely ignoring both the spears as the licking fire, Loki strokes his non-existent beard. ‘Maybe I’ll even return in a different form.’ For a second, he shifts to his female form, delighting at the pure look of horror on the peoples’ faces.</p><p>‘Or maybe not,’ she drawls, shifting back to her male persona, ‘But how are you to ever know?’ Blowing a kiss, the prince snaps his fingers once more. A loud cackling of green sparks burst from his body as he vanishes. Leaving a bunch of perplexed peasants behind.</p><p>He appears two blocks from the city square, smoothly stepping out of a shadow in an expensive looking suit. It’s fit for the prince he is. The gold rimming on the collar and his stern eyes are more than enough for the soldiers in the streets to know not to bother him.</p><p>Not that they would’ve heard of the miraculous escape this quick. For while it is true that rumours run like wildfire, even the fastest inferno isn’t quite fast enough to beat his transportation spells.</p><p>The streets are beyond filthy with its cobblestones covered in brownish muck. Loki looks down with distaste. Everywhere he can see there is human and animal waste. The smells of the decomposition in the burning sun is enough to make him gag. Pressing a perfumed handkerchief to his nose, he makes his way into the very first tavern he spots.</p><p>Inside, it is not much cleaner. The crowd is rough-looking, drunk and rowdy, and they stare at him like he’s the first clean person they’ve seen in their lives. Which is probably the truth, sad as that is. Hygiene in the mighty England isn’t much of a thing, he has come to learn.</p><p>Making his way to the bar doesn’t do his clothes any favours. The woman behind the counter is eyeing him with barely hidden lust. ‘I want to inquire whether you know someone I can buy a horse off. Mine broke a leg, you see,’ he leans forward just the slightest tad, ‘had to kill the poor beast.’</p><p>‘I might…’ the woman drawls, leaning close enough so that he has front-row access to her bust.</p><p>The mage merely smiles politely. His gaze is cold enough to effectively put a stop on her attempts to snatch a rich husband. ‘Can this… contact of yours sell one right this instance?’ He gives the man standing threateningly beside her a once over. Jealous suitor? It isn’t worth thinking over. ‘You see, I’m in a bit of a hurry.’</p><p>Despite throwing in a few golden coins, it takes far too long. By the time they’ve reached the ruin of a stable, and he has successfully made himself the owner of a horse so old it might not even last him to the city gate, it is already nearing sunset. A time Loki knows the city will close its gates.</p><p>Especially with a stray mage on the loose.</p><p>If he wants to have any chance of leaving this thrice-accursed city today he must be fast. Looking hurried, however, will put the soldiers right back on his tail, something he honestly cannot be bothered with. That leaves him with one choice: he must look less refined and blend in better. </p><p>He makes his farewells to the woman and gets on the horse. Gently he pats it against its head, whispering: ‘I believe in you.’ His palm glows as he heals the poor thing’s wounds. A glance around to check whether anyone saw him makes him look right at three nuns. The women point at him with trembling arms, causing him to sigh.</p><p>‘Just go back and pray to your dear God,’ he says, giving the horse a gentle signal to move, ‘It is really the most convenient for all of us.’</p><p>Then he’s off.</p><p>Halfway through his flight, Loki changes his appearance to that of a farmer. Mimicking the city guard did cross his mind, but with his steed nowhere similar to the well-bred stallions said men ride, he would just look out of place. He can see that word is spreading and the people are afoot. Cursing at them to get out of his way isn’t nearly as effective as determinedly charging ahead, he finds. </p><p>It’s jump or getting trampled.</p><p>The city gates are coming nearer. His horse’s hooves thunder over the cobbles, though the slippery underground makes it dangerous to do so. Then the sound multiplies, and he realises he won’t make it out without a fight.</p><p>The gate is lowering.</p><p>Loki releases the illusions from his body, only stopping when a myriad of spears forces him to. ‘It seems you’ve found me once more.’ The very same man he humoured a fortnight ago glares at him. Unbothered, the mage continues: ‘I would say it is a pleasure, but I’m afraid I found your hospitality lacking.’</p><p>His remarks aren’t appreciated, but that’s their loss.</p><p>With a cocky grin, he lets his hand become engulfed with green flames. ‘Do you want to play, or are you going to be smart?’</p><p>Despite being more than prepared to block the inevitable bullet, Loki finds himself not having to. A big, muscled man forces himself between the mage and the jumpy boy that fired it. The man is wearing an obnoxiously red coat and a somewhat oversized shield.</p><p>‘What do you think you are doing?’ The prince asks his unexpected saviour. ‘I don’t recall begging for help like a damsel in distress.’</p><p>The man turns to look at him, causing the god curse. Damn does he look like Thor. Though his eyes are a bit on the greyer side, like a cloudy sky, and lined with wrinkles of a lifetime of intense emotions, the resemblance is striking. ‘Are you quite sure about that?’ </p><p>Loki raises his left eyebrow. It is as if the sun shines out of his arse. It’s ridiculous. ‘Quite sure,’ he confirms, ‘I already escaped them once, you know. Escaping them once more won’t cost me a sweat, thank you very much.’</p><p>‘Well, you’ll just have to deal with it.’ His accent is not native to this area, and he finds his curiosity piqued.</p><p>Thoroughly amused, the prince sweeps his arm in a go-ahead gesture. Who is he to refuse such a chivalrous offer? Summoning a crystal goblet to sip a quality Venetian vintage, he makes a mocking bow to the captain: ‘There you go, honoured Sir. Two magical demons in one go. Think your noble baron had something to say about that, didn’t he?’</p><p>With a roar the soldiers charge, and the not-Thor cuts the first down with practised ease. He keeps his back towards Loki and his horse. The trust in that is somewhat touching—they are complete and utter strangers after all.</p><p>It is beautiful to watch the other fight. This man has skill; and clearly has been to war. A little enchanted, Loki absentmindedly flicks away some stray soldiers like irritating flies. But the surprises seem to not quite be done as the man pulls out a stick. The Latin-sounding phrase he shouts is unfamiliar to the mage, who’s intrigued by the red beams that shoot out of the tip.</p><p>This type of magic he doesn’t know.</p><p>The men the red magic touches scream and fall, struggling to rise again. The stranger screams a battle cry, making quick work of the legion.</p><p>Loki is burning with curiosity. Who is this man? How come he can do magic? All the accused witches he has stumbled upon so far were just frightened women whose minds were a threat to the self-absorbed men in charge. With a destructive blasting spell, he destroys the gate. He gives a hand to the stranger and swings him on the horse behind him and makes a run for it.</p><p>As they gallop through the gates there are a few stray arrows coming their way, but the stranger’s shield blocks them easily. They rush into the forest, going over a path that forms in front of the horse’s hooves and disappears seconds after it passes. It is only when it is well and truly dark; when the horse cannot go on for any longer, that Loki stops. </p><p>Dismounting after the stranger, the mage holds his hand out to shake. ‘Consider me impressed,’ he says, ‘Care to share your name?’</p><p>The stranger’s grip is strong. ‘If I may hear yours.’ Then, with a bright smile painfully like Thor’s, he pulls the black-haired male into a crushing hug. ‘I am Godric Gryffindor, pleasure to make your acquaintance.’</p><p>He raises an eyebrow at the strange surname but isn’t able to judge with the one he came up with on a whim. ‘Salazar Slytherin,’ he purrs, ‘And I do think the pleasure is fully mine.’</p><p>Before the night can truly get interesting, however, there is the poor horse to care for and a campsite to build. Training in survival as he is, there’s nothing that goes above comfort. Especially after all those nights on the cold stone of his mouldy cell, some soft moss, and a warm blanket sound like a blessing.</p><p>They are huddled together under the blankets he managed to summon. The nights are freezing, and while the cold has never bothered Loki, their shared body heat will ensure his companion won’t wake up as an icicle. </p><p>‘If you’ll have me,’ Godric says after a long moment of silence, ‘I know we can achieve greatness.’</p><p>His first impulse is to call him out on his lie. Ever the shadow, Loki is convinced he’ll do no such thing. In the darkness, however, swayed by the man’s heartfelt determination, he dares to tentatively believe that. </p><p>‘Only if you’ll have me’, he whispers.</p>
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